


Pumpkin Spice Lightning

by fauvistfly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauvistfly/pseuds/fauvistfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scott. Derek is my friend. My very good friend. He’s about to be my best friend if you keep this up,” Stiles snaps as he viciously points a pen at Scott. “This is growth. I’m growing. I’m capable of being friends with attractive people without becoming a drooling mess or a heart-eyed baboon with five-year plans. Stop shitting on my growth, man.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumpkin Spice Lightning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auphedemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auphedemon/gifts).



> for auphedemon (TW Exchange Summer 2014), who requested some fall fluff with stiles and derek taking care of each other in platonic automatic ways. i sort of veered off topic, but hopefully you still like it!

The first day that Starbucks puts the Pumpkin Spice Latte back on the menu for the fall, Derek stops by Stiles’ desk to drop off a steaming Venti of the sweet drink. Scott happens to be there as well, which means he witnesses Stiles’ pornographic moan upon smelling the drink and then hears his effusive thanks and declarations of love. He also observes Stiles’ goofy grin that stays on his face as Stiles watches Derek walk away. When Stiles finally looks up, he sees Scott staring at him.

“What, Scott?” Stiles asks, his eyes squinted in suspicion.

Scott merely beams more brightly. “Nothing! I’m just, nothing.”

Stiles puts down his coffee and waits expectantly. When Scott still doesn’t say anything, Stiles smacks him on the shoulder and says, “Seriously? What?”

Scott shrugs and starts playing around on his phone. “I’m just wondering when you’re going to start your five-year plan for Derek.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asks defensively, his head whipping around to see if anyone is listening. “Derek is Derek. We’re friends.” Stiles grabs the phone out of Scott’s hands to emphasize his point.

Scott sighs loudly and then stretches out his body, as if preparing himself for an argument. “You don’t really have friends like Derek,” he points out, reaching forward to take his phone back.

Stiles just raises it above his head. “Yes, I do. Because Derek is my friend.”

“Okay, that’s great,” Scott says, the smirk on his face only serving to irritate Stiles more. “I just mean that usually, when someone looks like Derek but also knows how you like your coffee and laughs at your jokes, they end up on your list.” Scott uses Stiles’ astonishment to take his phone back but puts it in his pocket to give him his full attention. He crosses his arms and waits to hear what Stiles has to say.

Stiles notices the position and scowls at him, trying to communicate with his face how much he doesn’t appreciate Scott’s skepticism. “Scott. Derek is my friend. My very good friend. He’s about to be my best friend if you keep this up,” Stiles snaps as he viciously points a pen at Scott. “This is growth. I’m growing. I’m capable of being friends with attractive people without becoming a drooling mess or a heart-eyed baboon with five-year plans. Stop shitting on my growth, man.”

Scott attempts to suppress his grin as he watches Stiles flail in indignation. “I’m not! I’m not. Seriously, Stiles, I didn’t mean it like that. I thought you were just hiding it because you didn’t want me to make fun of you. Which I wouldn’t,” Scott says quickly when he catches Stiles’ glare. “Seriously, man. Good for you. You guys have a great friendship. It’s awesome.” He gives him two thumbs up and then ducks when Stiles swats them away.

“Thank you.” Stiles swivels his chair around away from Scott to emphasize the end of the conversation. “Now if you’re done, I’d like to drink this coffee that my FRIEND Derek Hale brought me before it gets cold.”

Scott refrains from saying anything further, but he does snap a photo of Stiles taking his first sip, his face full of affection and bliss that clearly have nothing to do with Derek.

***

It isn’t until later, when he throws out his empty coffee cup on his way out, that Stiles really allows himself to think about what Scott has insinuated. It’s as if a cap has been unscrewed by Scott’s words, a password unlocking all the thoughts he’d either suppressed or denied upon realizing he would be seeing Derek on a regular basis. 

In the beginning, Derek’s attractiveness had been so overwhelming that he’d felt like one huge, walking boner with a blush. He hadn’t known where to look—his eyes were ridiculous, his biceps were sick, and his abs were lickable, and his ass? Dear god. But slowly, he had gotten to the point where he could hold an actual conversation with him without getting distracted by his face. And then he’d become comfortable enough to joke with him, tease him for his broodiness and hatred of stupid people. Somewhere along the way, they had become friends. Really good friends who knew each other’s likes and dislikes, who knew what kind of coffee to get or what drink to order or what movie to rent. Friends who were at ease in silence but also willing to listen to a three-hour diatribe on the travesty of the X-Men franchise. He’d finally gotten to the point where Derek’s presence didn’t make him nervous; in fact, his presence actually calmed him and made him feel safe.

Now all that comfort is shot to hell with all these new feelings that are stampeding through his head. Because Scott? Is totally right. Derek is absolutely his type, and Scott has probably been biting his tongue for ages. It’s not like Derek is any less attractive than he was when they first met. Just because Stiles can laugh at him doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of the way the Derek blushes in embarrassment or the way his forearms flex when he messes with the baseball on his desk or the way his abs look when they’re sweaty from the random basketball games they play because sometimes Derek wipes his sweat with the bottom of his t-shirt and that’s when Stiles gets a peek at those flat abs and the hair that leads to BAD THOUGHTS, STILES. 

He shakes his head in an attempt to erase those images etch-a-sketch style. The real problem is not that Derek is still attractive. No, the real problem is that getting to know Derek as a friend has made him exponentially more attractive. Stiles had been focusing so much on managing his physical attraction to Derek that he’d forgotten about the emotional and social attraction. Now that he’s letting all those thoughts roam free, he realizes that Derek is a triple threat. Stiles is attracted to Derek in all three of those ways, and that’s when he realizes just how fucked he is. SO. FUCKED.

Stiles’ immediate reaction is to raid his liquor cabinet and drown his sorrows in alcohol. Thankfully, his more sensible side realizes that getting smashed on a Monday evening will only make the next day worse, and trying to maintain a sense of normalcy when he sees Derek in the morning will be pretty much impossible with a hangover. So he does the next best thing. He takes a shower.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t take a shower immediately. He allows himself a little time to wallow in his bed, indulges his imagination a little to envision a life with Derek. He thinks about the way he feels when he gets Derek to laugh so hard he throws back his head and shows off that beautiful neck of his. He remembers the warmth of his hug when he’d gotten the news that his father had come out of heart surgery safely. He smiles at the way Derek knows the recipe for his favorite chicken dishes and always sends him home with leftovers. The more he thinks about it, about how good they could be together, the more he aches for something he doesn’t think he can have. Derek has never shown any sign of being interested in more than a friendship. In fact, Stiles was so excited that friendship was on the table that it never even occurred to him to hope for something more—which probably contributed to his utter denial of his feelings and its subsequent explosion. He buries himself further into his blankets and gives himself five more minutes. 

After seven minutes have gone by (epiphanies are exhausting, okay?), Stiles slowly emerges from his bed burrito and sends Scott a strongly worded and capitalized text detailing his anger for making him realize his emotions. Then he stands up and makes the bed, snapping the sheets as if doing so will air out his head. He strips out of his clothes and then inspects his face while waiting for the water to heat up. Unbelievably, he looks the same, no different from this morning when he’d enjoyed the crisp fall air and the smell of pumpkin in his coffee. He scoffs at his earlier ignorance and then steps under a stream of scalding hot water. He cleans himself quickly but then spends a long time letting the water stream over his face. It gathers in the palms of his hands and the crooks of his arms, which he then lets spill down the rest of his body in a loud flood. He knows the water isn’t going to wash away these feelings, but he tries to look at it metaphorically. He and Derek have been friends for ages now. Surely he’ll be able to get things back to normal, right? He makes a mental checklist of things to help him survive and move on: finish that online dating profile, accept that offer from Scott’s mom to go on a blind date with one of her co-worker’s daughters, consider some of the guys who hit on him at the Jungle. Stiles tells himself to be more open to meeting someone special. Someone more special than Derek? He sighs heavily before turning off the water. 

He wraps himself in a towel and heads to his bedroom when he sees Derek there, leaning on his desk. He stops in shock and momentarily wonders if all that steam has made him hallucinate.

Derek stands up immediately, as if caught in the middle of doing something wrong. “Scott said you were sick? I brought _The Matrix_ and soup. I just let myself in—didn’t mean to surprise you,” Derek says apologetically.

“No, it’s fine. I gave you the key for that reason,” Stiles says eventually, once he gets his mouth closed and under control. He’s almost proud of himself for sounding normal when he’s actually swooning inside from Derek’s thoughtfulness. Of course Derek brings over the perfect remedy—if he were actually in bed with a cold or a fever. Instead, he’s wallowing in his own stupidity and is not quite ready to face the cause of too many recent revelations.

Derek relaxes slightly, but his eyes flit over Stiles’ body quickly; Stiles can barely believe it when he sees Derek’s cheek flush. Derek looks away to point to the soup and the DVD on the desk, but Stiles can see the way he peeks over as if he can’t help himself. “You don’t look…sick.”

Stiles grimaces slightly. Fucking Scott and his good intentions, he thinks to himself. “Um, not really? Not physically, anyway. More like recovering from a major epiphany. Mental hangover. Got anything for something like that?” He scratches his stomach lightly absentmindedly, unsure of whether his desire to be near Derek at all times is stronger than his embarrassment at being half naked in front his newly discovered crush. But when he sees Derek glance at his fingers with a flush on his face, he pauses.

If once is an accident, and twice is a pattern? 

Because Stiles has spent the last few hours berating himself for letting a good friendship—seriously, they have a great friendship—get messed up by his own romantic feelings. And the possibility of Derek’s reciprocation is so compelling, so utterly appealing, that Stiles might just be willing to take the risk.

He bites his lip and then decides to test the waters a bit. He walks over to the desk where Derek still hasn’t moved and picks up the soup. “What kind did you get? Oh, avgolemono, my favorite. You are the best,” he says, giving Derek an affectionate smile. 

Derek can’t help but smile back, but his eyes still flit down Stiles’ body. “Do you,” he starts, looking away for a moment. “Did you maybe want to get dressed?”

Stiles opens the lid carefully, picks up a spoon, and takes a bite. “Why? Does it bother you?” Stiles asks nonchalantly, though he watches Derek closely for his answer.

Derek moves away from Stiles with uncharacteristic fidgeting. “You’re not known to be the neatest eater. What if you spill on yourself? That soup is still hot,” he says as he heads to Stiles’ drawers and pulls out a shirt.

“What, are you gonna pick out my underwear, too?” Stiles teases as he takes another sip. Predictably—he actually does not do this on purpose—he spills a little on his bare chest and yelps in pain.

Derek drops the shirt and is in front of Stiles immediately, taking the soup out of his hands, wiping away the spill, and then pressing his hand against the burn mark. It’s already fading, but Derek still caresses the spot gently and blows on it lightly.

Stiles can feel the moment when Derek realizes the intimacy of their positions. Before he can move away, Stiles places his hand over Derek’s and says, “Thanks.” He holds his hand for a moment longer before allowing Derek to slide away and then smiles fondly even as Derek slips his hand out of his reach. 

Derek bends down to pick up the shirt he’d dropped and throws it at Stiles’ face. “Didn’t I tell you to listen to me?” Derek says in exasperation.

Stiles laughs quietly and slips the shirt over his head. He moves towards the dresser to grab a pair of boxer briefs and lets his towel drop. He doesn’t let himself check to see if Derek is watching, but he hopes he is. Once he slips his underwear on, he picks up the towel and throws it in the hamper. Derek is sitting on the bed, staring blankly at Stiles’ wall of miscellany, so Stiles goes to sit next to him.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any plans since, you know, I’m not really sick.” Stiles tries not to think about how, moments ago, he’d imagined a happy future with Derek. He smoothes the blankets to calm himself.

“No, I didn’t have any plans. Just the usual terrorizing of elderly women and small children,” Derek says wryly.

Stiles snorts at his reply, but he’s too lost in his thoughts to respond with anything witty. He bites his nail and considers how he should proceed, whether he should share his feelings or simply bury them in the name of friendship. Before he can decide, he feels Derek’s shoulder nudge his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asks softly. 

Stiles exhales loudly and flops back on the bed. “I’m not sure?” he says to the ceiling. 

Derek turns to look at him and simply waits. Stiles appreciates the gesture and takes his time to sort his thoughts before sitting up again.

“Have you ever—” he starts before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “I mean, do you—” Stiles closes his eyes and bites his lip. He breathes deeply one more time and then opens his eyes to look at Derek. Derek, whose face is full of concern and warmth.

He’s reassured that, no matter what, Derek will still be his friend, even if they go through a rough patch. With this in mind, he says with mock confidence, “Did you know that I am great at being a friend? Like, I am totally the best. I am the most kick-ass friend you have, right?” 

Derek purses his lips in amusement and nods his head; Stiles gives him major props for not rolling his eyes. Derek says blandly, “Yes, you’re the best, Stiles. Always.”

Stiles gives him a slight shove and continues. “No, I’ve thought about this for a long time. And really, it’s my forte. Friendship is what I’m good at. I’m good at being supportive. I am the best sidekick. I can cry next to you during _Love Actually_ and bring you water when you’ve just finished a marathon and listen when you go on and on about your favorite Russian novel or whatever it is you’re into at any given moment.” He sees Derek’s furrowed brow and adds, “I love being a good friend. It makes me happy.”

He pauses again and braces himself for the hard part before continuing. “Friendship comes naturally. It’s relationships that are hard for me. Sometimes they seem impossible.” Stiles keeps his head down and picks at the edge of his boxer briefs. “I have a lot of love to give, and sometimes I just put it all into friendships because I never know how that love will be received in an actual romantic relationship. I’ve crashed and burned a few times, sometimes more spectacularly than others. I guess I just wonder what it is about friendship that’s so different.”

Derek places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Stiles, you _are_ a great friend. The best, and I mean that honestly.” Derek makes him look him in the eye and gives him a small smile. “But all those things you listed that make you good at friendship—those things make for great relationships as well. It’s just another layer of love, one that adds another dimension. And the best relationships are ones that are grounded in friendship, so I know you’ll be fine. Amazing, even.”

Stiles looks into Derek’s face, his expression so earnest and supportive. His feelings intensify even more at those words, and he bites his lip to contain them. He clenches his fists for a second, hoping for strength as he keeps staring into Derek’s gorgeous eyes, and then whispers, “Yeah, but, how do I turn a friendship into a relationship?” 

Derek’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t push Stiles away or grimace in disgust. “Is this the epiphany you were talking about?” Derek asks gently.

Stiles nods, his eyes still on Derek’s face. He knows he’s taking a risk, but he can’t stop. “I only just realized I was suppressing my feelings in the name of friendship. But now that I know, I want that other layer.” His eyes flick down to Derek’s lips, hoping it’s enough to communicate his thoughts. “I just don’t know if I can have it.”

“Stiles?” Derek’s eyes dart all over Stiles’ face, pausing at Stiles’ mouth and then returning to his eyes. His hand slides up from his shoulder to the crook of his neck, his thumb caressing his bare skin.

“Yes?” Stiles breathes out, wondering if it’s his wishful imagination that they’re moving closer together or if it’s really happening.

“You can have it,” Derek murmurs before closing the distance between them and kissing him sweetly. 

Stiles savors that first moment, the way his skins zings with excitement and grows warm with each passing moment. He brings his hands up to caress Derek’s cheeks and hold him close, as if he’s afraid he’ll disappear. Their lips brush tenderly again and again, not building towards something but just lingering in each other’s space. Stiles pulls back just a little and rests his forehead against Derek, his heart beating wildly. He closes his eyes and breathes in Derek’s comforting scent, the one that smells of home. “It’s really that simple?” he asks, his thumb caressing Derek’s cheekbone.

Derek huffs in amusement before kissing him again. “It really is.”

Stiles fights to keep the smile off his face, but when he sees Derek beaming at him, his whole face lights up. Stiles leans in for another kiss and then maneuvers himself under Derek’s arm. He feels Derek kiss his temple, so Stiles kisses Derek gently on that spot beneath his jaw and then snuggles his face into Derek’s neck, sighing contentedly.

***

The next day, Derek drops by with his usual coffee for Stiles, but this time he drops a kiss on Stiles’ lips before he leaves, chuckling at Scott’s look of surprise.

Once Derek leaves, Scott smacks Stiles on the shoulder in his excitement and yells, “Dude!”

Stiles just grins delightedly and exclaims, “I know, right?” He then gives Scott a full-body hug and whispers, “Thanks.”

Scott lifts him up easily and kisses him loudly on the cheek. “Anytime, my friend. Any time.” 

Later that day, Scott sends that photo of Stiles with the Pumpkin Spice Latte to Derek, who immediately saves it as his background. And the next day Derek shows up with a coffee for him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. come visit me on [tumblr](http://fauvistfly.tumblr.com)!


End file.
